What Zilarah Looks Like..
What Zilarah's Like..
[/u]Slavery.
It was the one thing keeping her from a real fulfilling life. Cruel and unfair is how the world started for the child known as Zilarah Sykes. Not a moment before she could walk the Royal Families of Tessera had her working. The city known for its astute promises of treasures below their vast city lead many to ignore the signs of the unfortunate. More worried about their treasures and fame, than that of the poor and enslaved. In truth many didn’t known of the criminal workings beyond the great ruins of Tessera, in fact rarely was it spoken of. Sectioned off from the rest of the world the Royal Family of Hearts were just those criminals. Five of the Heart Family were left, picking up where there brothers and sisters before them had fallen. Candice Heart the eldest of the five was considered a queen, rarely ever in view of the slaves. She pulled the strings in order for her supremacy to eventually take hold in other areas of the city. Running a slave underground while being politically inclined was a tough part to play.
The section blocked off from the consistent influx of adventurers and mages alike, is where Zilarah lived, worked, and eventually, according to the warden, would die in. The constant mining for gold became a nuisance and any stone found through the rotted dirt was used for building more cells. It only took a few wardens to watch over the small children constantly at work. The wardens had whips and cocky attitudes to keep the slaves from rioting. For Zilarah the slave life wasn’t incomprehensible, to get by in such a dark world that she was born into, you had to fight for survival. Some days she would make excuses for her situation, thinking that the Heart family was just doing what needed to be done to survive.
Survival was a concept that became more apparent to Zilarah as the years slowly went by. Gaining knowledge of what really was happening and why, she soon became stubborn, almost rebelling against many of the wardens wishes. At the ripe age of 11, Zilarah finally gathered enough information to put the Heart Family operation into her only possession.
A Notebook.
The Notebook was almost a personal journal, recording events that went on in the dark and endless passageways of Tessera’s creepy ruins. The thick notebook held a massive amount of paper, inscribed on the cover was a crescent moon. Jotting down anything she found interesting, notes of fruit, vegetables, events, and even people from the outside world. She wasn’t here to jot down another measly entry, she was ready to record what she knew. Grabbing onto her lead infused rock, she stroked the page as she began to write, careful not to tear the pages within.
Journal Entry *
The leaking water from above has been freezing to the stone wall of my cell, clearly winter has arrived. I can see my breath and my feet are constantly cold. I'd rather die of heat. The cold wouldn't allow me the pleasure however, exhaustion has started to take effect. The work load never ends. If the head warden catches me sneaking bread from Zin's cell, I'll get another three lashes. Things are looking bleak. Even as I’m writing this my fingers are going numb, but I have to remember for later, so let’s get started.
Candice Heart : Vile ---Learned that word today from Master Zin, I think he’s been a slave since before I was born. Zin has taught me a lot during my time in this hellish place. Crap, I went off topic again.
Anyways.
Candice Heart- Vile, corrupt, inhumane, and most of all incredibly wealthy. Selling us slaves has been a thing since before my youth. I find it hard to see any real good in her, I’ve gathered information from the rest of the wardens. While they think I’m sleeping, I’ve been sneaking about listening to the conversations. Magic has been a hot topic, they say Candice has the ability to cause a person to go insane, like mentally…I don’t know how I feel about the whole idea, I know mages exist, I can sometimes hear them through the thin stone walls of my cell. Candice hasn’t been known as a mage for as long as I can remember.
Either way she’s the queen of it all, trafficking, illegal alchemy practices, selling weapons to the grimiest of grime. She’s a real heart stopper. Candice sometimes forgets to have the (Elders) really old slaves turned to maids or butlers, feed all of us. Word from the common thief is that her newest obsessions is a rare blade hidden deep within the Tessera dungeons. Greedy and unwilling to let us free, I can’t sit by and just be treated like dirt. Zin has told us all we are meant for something much bigger.
Jim & Jane Heart (Twins) - Only really caught these two by chance when they came to talk with one of the wardens a week ago. Turns out they hate their sister Candice, like children my age, the two Twins are uncaring and villainous in their ways of deception. I’ve heard stories of them each using specialized poisons from Jim’s lab to advance their positions in the Royal family.
Zilarah Sykes – Exhausted, I heard the guard say it was close to Midnight. Going to catch some shut eye.
7 Years LaterEighteen is an important age, at least for a normal girl. For a slave, it wasn't much of a big deal. Zilarah had grown considerably over the long span of years, her knowledge growing with her. She had manifested a sarcastic and fearless attitude over time. Considered a young adult now, Zilarah was ready for a new life, over the years the Royal Five, quickly diminished to the Royal Family of Three. This left Candice the Queen, and the Twins (Jim & Jane). The Heart Family was weak in numbers, but slavery continued. Greed had begun to fester throughout the Heart Family like a disease. Zilarah was no stranger to the happenings of the inner sanctum they called home.
It wasn't just the shady inner workings of the criminal activity becoming sloppy that made Zilarah's escape plan possible. She had been a slave almost her entire life, knowing the wardens schedule like the back of her hand, she prepared a breakout for herself. The only other person she wanted to go with her, no longer was. Recently saddened by the passing of Zin, Zilarah snatched a sentimental item from the malnourished body days ago. Zin warned her of the neglect and the way many more like him his age were being treated. Zin had told her of his years in the war and how a lonely pocket watch kept him sane. A small picture mushed on the inner lid of it. A picture of Zin and his two kids. It was Zilarah's second actual possession.
She had lost her journal for some time and at one point was taken from her for the length of a whole year, she had other ways to write, and using stone on her cell walls she created art and poems. Reaching for her journal Zilarah flipped to a purple tassel. She had stolen it from one of the rude nobles a few years back. Using it as a bookmark was almost perfect the wardens would never open a book for stolen items. Stretching for her common lead infused rock she began to write, hopefully for the last time regarding her current happenstance.
Journal Entry **
The lingering smell of sweat is starting to make me gag, the heat of spring no doubt. I've started to really lose my temper lately. I flipped out on the south bank warden, he gave me three lashes. The ribs are finally okay, after being kicked in by the north wall warden two weeks ago. It’s okay though, soon they'll realize they've been beating a monster. I started having these weird episodes. I can't really explain it, all I know is it's not normal. Before he passed Zin told me it was my ticket out of here. I only hope for his and my sake, he's right.
Zin told me a few years back to record whenever, “the thing happens.” So I have been, looking back through everything I’ve written “the quakes”, (What I’m choosing to call them) have been happening sporadically. Only I noticed an odd pattern, when I become sad, or angered towards the actions of the wardens abuse I lose sight of the things around me. Zin told me that its magic, “an act of god” he called it.
I miss him a lot.
My back always seems to burn, or sting when it happens, my birth mark tattoo seems to be the cause of it all. The markings on my back are becoming bolder every day. I really am awesome, seriously though it’s kind of scary. The “quakes” are getting more violent and tomorrow is the day I break everyone out, if not them, hopefully myself. As long as I don’t have another episode, everything should work out for the better, even if it doesn’t, how much more badly can my life get?
The pocket watch is telling me it’s close to midnight, I always liked that word. I need rest for the escape, I made sure a few of the others could distract those loveable wardens, not. Anyway, I’m eighteen tomorrow, so happy birthday to me! Night!
Zilarah Sykes - The other slaves are calling me "Force Majeure" the new French slave said it weeks ago. Using one of Zin's bilingual dictionaries I figured out what it meant. It means Greater Force , perfect fit for my so called Magic.
The BreakoutRunning to the end of the tunnel she threw her bag of supplies near the large stone rock. Holes from previous pickaxes leaving their mark. She was breathing heavily. The distant sound of the guards in the winding pathways behind her meant one thing, she was going to get caught. She had other plans, using her tiny frame she squeezed her hand into one of the holes. Nothing. She frantically pulled her arm out and tried another one. Still to no avail. Calming herself, she sighed, it wasn’t meant to be.
“Where did she go!?” The first royal guard yelled.
“I don’t know, this way!?” “You are both dumb look at the ground! Her footsteps lead down that way!” Screamed another.
They were on to her, she had to find it fast, and it was the only way she would make it past the Royal Guards. Zin must have misplaced the Flemish, not only that the guards would kill her if they found out. The plan started out awfully, the few that escaped were probably caught. Zilarah didn’t have time to think about anyone else but her own hide. The guards careened around the winding passageway and stopped. One small guard in front yelled back to where he came from, two other guards slowing down as their run became a walk.
“Over here!” yelled the small guard, alerting more men to contain Zilarah.
Backing up against the wall, Zilarah saw a small gleaming jewel deep into the dirt filled wall next to her. She found it! As the two guards approached she quickly reached for the hilt of a hidden blade. A purple jewel resting in the center of the handle. Swinging it forward the first guard parried, Zilarah stumbled back. Slamming her back foot against the grain of the ground she lunged forward, Zin’s teaching had made her fierce in the art of swordplay. Fast and Agile she was precise, his sword aiming for the tiny openings of the royal guards armor. Unaware of her expertise in swordplay the guard slide into the tip of her blade. Puncturing his abdomen from a tiny slit on the side of his armor the guard fell. The dark red blood slithering across the fuller of the sword.
Zilarah hadn’t taken a life before, but the amount of lives taken under their rule was unjustified. Without a second thought she shrugged it off, images of Zin’s teachings becoming more apparent to her as she clashed swords with the remaining guard. Soon reinforcements would come, hopefully by then, the new French slave would arrive in time. Like a swan she shuffled her feet, gliding back and forth on her toes. Parry after parry she finally got the best of her opponent. Spinning, she feinted left, and struck at the guards’ throat. Keeling over the guard fell onto of his comrade before him. A pool of wine spreading around the outside of their lifeless bodies.
The short guard was stunned, frozen in fear at her ability to use a blade. Scurrying off, Zilarah finally reacted. She needed to change in order to make out into the streets without being noticed. Everything was up to Frenchie. He was the only one willing to set the charges from Jim and Janes Alchemist lab. How Zin got his hands on explosives was beyond her, even in death he seemed to be watching over her. After changing her clothes she waited. The Royal Heart in sheathe and her attire a full grey. Her jet-black hair was let down. Her rustic boots double knotted the way Zin liked them.
A loud bang befuddled her as the rocky wall behind her exploded, a large gap opening up for her and Frenchie’s escape. The sound of more guards clamoring about to make their way over. Grabbing her things quickly she grabbed Frenchie’s hand and pulled him forward. Coughing through the dusty remains of the explosion they reached the other side. They made it. Zilarah turned fast as she reached into her back pocket. A small slip folded perfectly, stained by a brownish liquid. Unfolding it as they both ran she looked at the paper quickly. Her yellow eyes scanned for a path to take as they continued on.
“Zilarah. Zilarah.” Frenchie tried to grab her attention but she kept running, Frenchie pausing in his tracks. A tall figure standing in their way to escape. Before Zilarah ran into him, Frenchie screamed.
“Zilarah! Up ahead!” Snapping her focus from the map to what was in front of her she skidded across the dirt, coming to a halt. The hallway was filled with empty torches, the darkness making it hard to see what was standing in the way of both Frenchie and Zilarah’s freedom.
An evil laugh came from the other end of the tunnel. A sudden movement by the mysterious figure caused the torches to light up by command. A tall masked man in green custom made armor stood in their way. His eyes were the most notable feature of his presence, swirls of fire boiling deep within. The scruffy beard he had formed a weird v shape, reaching his ears. Zilarah knew exactly who it was, she heard rumors of a man working for Candice. A man known as the “Emerald Flame” wearing green armor and able to use fire magic.
The flickering flames across the lengthy hallway walls started to hiss as the wind poured in from the exit. Before he could taunt her, Zilarah spoke up breaking the eerie silence.
“The Emerald Flame. I was expecting green flames it’s okay I’ve been disappointed my whole life, nothing new. Ya’ know the whole slave thing.” Zilarah smirked at her wisecrack. Trying to reach for her sheath a fireball ripped through the air. The flame gripped at the strings holding her scabbard to her side causing the Royal Heart to fall into the slate enriched floor.
“The Royal Heart in the hands of a slave? Tell me girl, how did a slave like you end up with a gem like that?” His voice was deep, a raspy tone bellowing as he spoke.
“Technically if I break out of my cell and am on the run, does that still make me a slave? Hmm. Oh and the sword, I’ve been using it for years. Tell Candice.” Zilarah’s sarcasm faltered, a deep burn tearing away at her back. A low agonizing grunt escaped her lips as she arched forward in pain. Saliva leaking through her clenched teeth. Falling to her knees Zilarah began to panic, the slow growl of the world shaking around her. The slate underneath her began to crack, tears filling her auburn-yellow iris. She screamed as her head snapped upright, staring into the flame infused eyes of her foe.
Her long silky black hair rippled through the air as she tilted her head back and forth. Her vision began to blur, the intensity of the pain continuing.
What was wrong with her? Was she cursed to live a life of slavery till the end of days? Why was the having an episode now? Zilarah watched as her foe attacked again. This time with two streams of flame swimming through the air, as if the ceiling above listened to her command, rocks fell from above, dissolving the streams of fire into ash. The steady quake from below grew louder. The emerald flame’s expression changed quickly, he was out of his league. The floor snapped like a branch in the woods. Everything grew louder, until Zilarah finally broke free. She could feel the world around her, her back calming and vision clearing. The pain had vanished, her senses heightened. The disaster taking place around the three of them was because of her.
Rocks began to slip through the crevices that stretched the hallway walls apart, splintering and teetering in a violent fashion. The rippling voices of the world whispered to her, giving her command of what would soon unfold. Pushing herself off the ground with perseverance she stood. Reaching out toward her adversary her tiny fingers strained. Zilarah got the best of him, enclosed places while having control of an earthquake was unfortunate. Squinting, she clenched her fingers into her palm. Forming a fist, the ground, ceiling, and walls ruptured around Emerald Flame. Falling into the wide crevice created below him he disappeared. The loud distant yell of his voice echoing as he fell. Zilarah using her other hand moved it quickly to her clenched fist. The ground closed back up splintering the slate walk way in a very tort manner.
The quake had stopped, everything grew silent as the few loose pebbles from above continued to fall around her. Dirt and white dust filled the area. Panting she brushed her clothes off, turning to look back at Frenchie. The Royal Heart sword managed to slide across the floor as the last few rumbles below shifted back in place.
“What the hell was that Zil!?” Frenchie exclaimed, his eyes still widened in awe.
“Never call me Zil again, only Zin called that. As far as all this.” She paused pointing to the few rocks and messed up ground ahead.
“It’s my magic, according to what Zin taught me.” She sighed, her body feeling weak.
“You never told me.” Frenchie’s area seemed to be less effected than where the Emerald Flame had been standing.
“I never told you because Zin told me to keep it under control, I was scared of hurting everyone. I had episodes over the last few years, where do you think all the random quakes were coming from Frenchie?” Zilarah asked. She had to make the conversation fast. She knew the guards from before were still looking for them.
“You…You’re amazing!” Frenchie screamed.
“What? Well I mean, of course I am.” Zilarah's sarcastic response was fitting.
“Can you teach me?” “I don’t think it works like that Frenchie, I was born like this.”“Wow, that’s incroyable!” Frenchie’s accent getting the best of him.
“Yeah, sure. Look we gotta go, like now.” She almost sounded commanding as she bent over and grabbed the Royal Heart.
“The Guards, crap. I almost forgot, between the flames and earthquakes.”“Frenchie now, we have to move.”“Alright, Alright, I’m right behind you.” Frenchie said, giving into her demands.
Zilarah booked for the exit, Frenchie steadily behind.
Something felt wrong, where were the guards, or had the earthquake she created stopped them as well? The silence of the outside world was a few hundred feet away. It made her skeptical. Maybe she was just overthinking it all. She did just create a massive earthquake, a disaster like that would cause a calming reaction to the locals in any city. Reaching the cusp of the exit, Zilarah lifted her forearm blocking the sun from her eyes.
The chirping of the birds engulfed her ears. The spring breeze nipping at her pale white skin. The heat felt right, assuring her that she had made it. Her shadow was spotted for the first time on the ground, Zilarah's eyes began to adjust. The light sting from the bright sun gripped at her ocular senses. The trees began to make a swoosh sound as the current of wind continued to push towards the east. Lowering her arm she looked out into the distance, a large tall building stretching to the sky in the far off distance.
It was breathtaking, the architecture of it all began to make her weep. The large city before her was too much to take in at once. Frenchie jumped up and yelled, almost tripping as he fixed himself. His odd silver hairs swaying in the wind like a cloth, his clothes matching a white canvas of plain. Zilarah turned to look at him with a smile.
"Frenchie, we did it." Tears ripped through her restraint to hold her emotions in. Dark clouds forming as she burst into tears. Frenchie stepped back, his tan skin took on a darker appearance in the sudden change of weather. Grey clouds began to form as Zilarah continued to sob. It was the first time she felt free, she was no longer restricted to her cell. Trying to compose herself she placed her nimble palm onto her forehead. Sliding the sweat off her head she finally looked back up to Frenchie.
Frenchie's Storm“Can you believe it Frenchie?” Zilarah asked. The returned silence seemed odd, Frenchie’s face taking on an odd expression. Zilarah walked closer to see if he was okay, then she found it. A visceral red leaked through to the front of his white shirt.
Blood.
Zilarah dashed for him as Frenchie fell forward, his fragile body slamming into her arms. His steady shake began to make her panic. The world around her became inconsequential as she fell to her knees, weak and distraught she cried out towards the sky. Heat lightning flashed through the clouds, a slow grumble of thunder came along with it. Her heart began to race, her left arm gripping at Frenchie’s back. A long spear jammed in the center causing his demise.
“Don’t you die on me….Fenchie, it will be okay. You will be okay. I promise Frenchie!” Her voice cracked with hysteria. Zilarah Rocked back and forth to soothe Frenchie. Blood creeped to the top of his mouth, a slow river of red dripped passed his cheeks. Frenchie coughed up a large pool of blood as he bent closer to Zilarah’s lap. He looked up to her as he grabbed her arm.
“Take this, Zil. Heh, Its okay, I’ll tell Zin all about it…I….wanted….to….thank….” Frenchie couldn’t finish his free hand holding onto a rolled up piece of dark grey cloth.
“He would….want……you….to have it. Zil I’m cold.” Frenchie forced the last of his words, his eyes turning to a light hue of white. He was dead.
Zilarah continued to hold tightly onto him, speaking nonsense about not leaving her. He hadn’t been in her life long, but anyone willing to do what he did wasn’t worth losing. The clouds had turned to almost a sharp black, swirling overhead. Rain slowly freefalling onto the both of them. She couldn’t handle another loss. Zin had told her to ignore attachments that might cause pain, a solid rule for a slave. If Zilarah became friends with more than just Zin and Frenchie she would have experienced more loss than many others in a lifetime. Unsure of what to do she continued to hold Frenchie’s lifeless body.
“Zilarah.” The voice was proper, holding a sharp tone.
“Or should I call you Force Majeure.” A silent flash of lightning complimented the unwavering rain. Zilarah clenched her teeth, her wet black hair sticking to the sides of her face. Unable to tell the difference between tears and rain drops, she slowly stood. The weight of her clothing sagged a bit, her skin a slippery white. Turning to face the culprit, she paused her head slightly tilting to reveal her one left eye. A piercing yellow iris slicing through the tendrils of her hair revealed the murderer.
A tall woman, with her chin held high and a pointy nose was accompanied by two knights. The ground began to flood as the rain tampered harder. The woman was wearing a robe unlike anything Zilarah had ever laid eyes on. The intricate design was filled with gold silk, zigging and zagging its way to the top of the chest area. Attached to the chest area of the purple robe sat a menacing design in the shape of a face, teeth bared, and two purple jewels glowing for its eyes. The rest of the knitted cloth was perfect, slithering its way to the wide open cuffs of the long sleeves. At the bottom another glowing jewel rested, another at the waist line. In total four purple jewels encrusted themselves onto the unmatched garment.
Royal Purple Robe
The two guards next to the robed lady made Zilarah cringe, her body swaying back and forth trying to stay afoot. Almost like a ravenous screech the name escaped her lips.
“CAN-DICE!” She screamed, her heavy arms lifted to the air. She pointed through the torrential rain, her finger indicating her target. It was Candice.
“Mi’ lady the weather is looking awful, we warned the town of potential criminals scouring the city. Everyone is safely in their homes, Mi’lady, please, we must leave. It could be a tornado or worse!” The first guard yelled trying to make up for the ravenous storm overhead.
“I want her, now!” Exclaimed the queen. Candice pushed the guard to the side and stepped forward, a shimmer of purple lights morphing into her hand. Another spear forming out of thin air, the purple light entangling itself around the long pole arm. The last of the purple energy dissipated as the sharp tip of the spear was made.
“I’ll kill her myself, to think we missed out on your true potential. Poor girl, I will not be made a fool of!” Zilarah walked slowly, her body moving in sheer rage as her finger finally fell dead. The Royal Heart was left back next to Frenchie with the rolled up piece of cloth he had tried to give her. Zilarah stopped the storm over head striking buildings nearby, the loud snaps in the distance as trees began to fall. Lifting her arms to the sky she screamed, a bolt of lightning maneuvering from the sky towards Candice. Candice grinned her grip on the spear made her enthralled with power. Gusts of wind forced Zilarah’s hair to the side, streaking in the wind like snakes snapping at its prey. The bolt missed, Candice letting out a light chuckle.
Bending her arm backwards Candice readied herself for the throw, her magic guiding the spear as she hurled it forward. Zilarah had to react, instead she screamed again. Another bolt blindly zapping the spear into dust, purple flurries rising to the air.
“I won’t let you take my life, when you’ve taken so much more from me! I’m going to kill you Candice, slavery isn’t the answer to your wealth. You’re a queen no longer!” Zilarah proclaimed, the stirring skies above following her edict.
A small stream of wind began to wrap around Candice delicately. Candice stricken with fear stepped backwards, her eyes widening in fright. Zilarah could feel the rapid winds speaking to her, like the storm had been part of her from the very beginning. Everything slowed, her yellow eyes scanned over the helpless queen. The years of solitude and torture created by this one woman almost made Zilarah sick. Her hands fell to the side, the winds circling the queen and her one knight began to move rapidly.
Cutting at the two of them like a knife the forming tornado began to slice into them. Their agony became apparent from their screams. Staring into the purple eyes of the queen Zilarah cracked her nimble finger. The tornado ripping through them like a wood chipper dealt with wood. Splattered blood caressed the walls behind them, a strike of lightning and rolling thunder growled over the city. Zilarah was unaffected, the winds from the tornado excluded her from its desired destruction. Stone lifting to the air as it smashed into everything around her. Distant screams of the locals were heard as they ran from their homes. Zilarah would have smiled if it wasn’t for the cause.
Frenchie was gone, at the hands of the wretched beast that was now dealt with. Not wanting to harm innocents Zilarah shifted the tornado away from the city. The steady growl of thunder overhead proved it wouldn’t let up for a while. The rain continued as if Zilarah no longer needed to focus to have the storm listen. She had awoken, her true power was a divine act, Zin was right. Turning away from where Candice and her loyal knights once stood she paused.
Bending over she reached for her Royal Heart Flemish and the wrapped up cloth in Frenchie’s hand. Leaning over even more she kissed his forehead, her cheek sliding across Frenchie’s as she whispered into his ear.
“Thank you, Frenchie. I’ll see you on the other side.” Her voice was cold and strained. Her heart breaking as she cupped her mouth with the cloth he had given her. Almost gasping for air she stood, tightly gripping the scabbard to the Royal Heart. Looking to the city ahead, her wet cold body made its way forward.
Glancing over her shoulder she looked at Frenchie one last time, it wasn’t rain, a soft tear glided down her face as she disappeared in the misty downpour.
Ending Theme
Cry